


The Cycle of Pain

by BabyFenrir90



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-28 18:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyFenrir90/pseuds/BabyFenrir90
Summary: Your mutant powers had always been more of a curse than a blessing, but they did the job well when you needed them to.One of them is a soldier. A broken and exhausted prisoner of war. He says he wants to protect you, but you've never been one for protection. Always on the run. Never looking back.The other is the trickster God, who devastated New York years ago, made an outcast by the people he called family. What he wants isn't exactly a relationship, but maybe that's a good thing. He wants to help you obtain greatness.Both of them want to know you. To understand. How long can you keep hurting them?





	1. Chapter 1

You sat in the dim semi-darkness of the bar, taking in the scent of cheap whiskey, cigarette smoke, and the sound of blusey rock music playing on the replica jukebox over by the bathroom. The man who had bought you your drink was tall and blond with chiseled features, and smoldering dark eyes. He was also a complete and total tool. He had to have been at least ten years older than you, and his left hand bore a wedding ring tan line. You couldn’t wait to see what kind of cheap hotel he tried to bring you back to.

You had to play along, though, if you wanted somewhere to sleep tonight. Plus, you wouldn’t mind taking a peek through his wallet and getting some revenge on him for being such a boring target.

Nodding along to whatever the hell it was he was saying -- you were too bored to listen -- you took a sip of your drink. The alcohol was the only thing that seemed to dull the pain in the back of your head. Normally, it faded after a few days, but this last beating had been worse than the previous ones. You were still reeling from it three days later.

“So my daughter --” whatshisface was saying but then he broke off as the sound of Metallica filled the air, and the screen of his cellphone lit up on the counter in front of you.

The words “Ball & Chain” flitted across the screen, and you looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “You’ve got a wife?”

Opps, the jig was up.

Part of you was disappointed that the act was over and that you might actually have to face going home tonight. Maybe you could crash at Serena’s place. The other part of you was immensely relieved that you wouldn’t have to put up with this guy for any longer. You tried not to dwell on the fact that had this gone further, you might have actually had to kiss him.

You hopped down out of your barstool and snatched your bag up from your seat. “We’re done here.”

“Hey,” the guy said, grabbing you by the arm as you started to go. You felt anger suddenly flash through you, and you weren’t sure if it was his or your own. “You don’t get to go til I say so.” He pushed you back so hard that you stumbled into the stool behind you.

You scowled up at him, your hands balling up into fists at your sides. But someone else spoke before you had the chance to respond.

“The dame said you’re done, pal.”

You looked up to see a beast of a man, towering over both you and your intended target. He had long, dark hair, stern blue eyes, and a square jaw covered in just the right amount of stubble. He reached out with a gloved hand and grabbed the man by the shoulder. “Why don’t you go home to your wife and family -- they wouldn’t be calling you if they didn’t need you.”

Now, he would have been an interesting target. Might have even been worth talking to.

Whatshisface scowled at him. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” He got to his feet, a glint of menace flashing through his eyes. He reached out and shoved the newcomer hard, but the man barely budged. 

The stranger chuckled, shaking his head. “You really don’t wanna do this.”

Things were starting to get interesting. You couldn’t help but feel intrigued by this newcomer who was willing to come to your rescue. Who was he -- why did it feel like you knew him from somewhere?

Whatshisface pulled back to punch the man, but the brunette caught his fist before it even connected. He gripped his arm hard both of his hands and threw him over his shoulder onto the ground like it was nothing. Then he landed a kick to the head for good measure.

You couldn’t hold back a chuckle, impressed at the newcomer’s obvious skill.

He looked up at you as though he had forgotten you were there. “Oh,” he smiled apologetically at you. “I’m sorry you had to see that, doll.”

Dame -- doll? What decade was this guy from? It was more endearing than odd, though. You had always had a soft spot for pet names.

“No, it’s alright,” you smiled up at him, shaking your head. “Thank you. I would have been in a lot of trouble if you hadn’t come along.”

Which was a total lie, but this guy was hot.

“It was no trouble, really,” he assured you, stepping over your target’s unconscious body. He offered you his hand to shake. “My name is--”

But everything that happened after that seemed to take place in slow motion: Beaming, you took his hand in your own. Then it hit instantly. Pain. Incredible, unbearable white hot pain flooded every fiber of your being. Your arm was being ripped from your body, your mind split in two. And so much sadness, and rage. It crashed over you in waves so powerful you fell to your knees, panting and trembling from the force of it, as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You stared up at the man in front of you, unable to believe that he was able to withstand such pain. A lifetime of it.

And he stared down at you, panic flooding his features. “Are you--?” he started to say.

But the world had already started to go black. You felt your body tumble towards the floor. Then just as a pair of impossibly strong arms managed to catch you, you said in a raspy whisper, “What did they do to you?”

Then you were gone, lost in a nightmare land of never-ending pain, unable to scream. Unable to cry. All you could do was wait for it to end.

You weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious for. It felt like years had passed in an instant. Every bone in your body ached in a way you had never experienced before. Pain you were used to, but this was something else entirely. This was an onslaught of torment and pent up emotions you had never quite experienced. Your head felt as though it were fire. You weren’t sure if it was from your powers or the alcohol. Your arm felt oddly disconnected from your body, but when you could feel the movement when you twitched your fingers, so you knew it was still there.

You were vaguely aware of the fact that you had been placed on a surface much too soft to be comfortable. It was nothing like your bed at home. Then you the sound of voices. Vaguely familiar voices. You weren’t certain how you knew them, but you did. Then you heard it -- his voice.

The stranger from last night.

“...Not sure what happened....Barely touched her....She was on the floor, crying and shaking...”

“...Be a mutant,” another voice chimed in.

Your spine went rigid at the mention of the M word. Mutant. It was your darkest secret. No one outside of your family knew, and they had only found out because they were impossible to hide from.

You forced yourself to try to sit up, crying out loudly in agony as you did so. You heard an intake of break and footsteps rushing towards you. Then when you opened your eyes, he was kneeling in front of you. Your savior from the bar. He looked liked he might reach out and touch you, but he paused instead a gleaming metal hand outstretched towards you.

Metal arm? you thought. That explained a lot.

“Doll, what happened?” he asked you. “Are you alright?”

You groaned loudly as you looked away from him to take in your surroundings. Even the slightest movement caused pain to shoot through your brain, frying the cells like acid. You were in a large, round room with plush navy carpeting and a balcony that offered a panoramic view of the city. One wall was taken up entirely by a bookshelf, littered with artwork, photos, and knicknacks. A punching bag dangled from a chain in the corner. Then you spotted them and understood immediately how you knew their voices: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, and none other than Thor, the God of thunder.

You gestured to yourself and managed to croak out. “Am I -- is this...?” Your voice trailed off.

“Avengers Tower, yes,” Tony Stark finished for you not unkindly. He gestured to himself and Captain America. “We are the Avengers. Nice to meet you. And you are?”

The Avengers. Metal arm. It suddenly dawned on you then who the man in front of you must be. “Are you--?” you asked, turning to him.

“Bucky,” he supplied with a gentle smile. “Bucky Barnes. Do you wanna tell us what happened last night?”

Holy shit. Had The Winter Soldier been trying to pick you up in a bar last night?

“I--” you started to say, but then broke off, sniffling loudly as another wave of pain washed over you.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky said gently. “It’s alright. You’re safe here.”

“Safe?” you echoed.

Looking down, you saw that someone had removed your leather jacket. The bruises that you tried so hard to hide were now on full display, dotting your arms and collar bone. Darkest black and deep purple. The reason you hated going home. The reason you had to go home.

“That’s right,” Bucky said, nodding. “Now, will you please tell us what happened -- we’ve been worried about you.”

The Avengers had been worried about you? That seemed hard to believe. Surely, the Earth’s mightiest heroes had more important things to concern themselves with. Whatever.

You took a deep breath and looked up at the other Avengers. “Don’t call the MRD?” it came out as a question, a pleading request.

Steve Rogers shook his head, a sympathetic smile playing about his lips. “We wouldn’t do that to you.”

The Mutant Response Division was every mutants’ worst nightmare. They hunted down innocent mutants, who were deemed too dangerous for society simply because of the nature of their abilities or the way their powers manifested. Every night on the news, there was some story on the news about a mutant kid hurting someone somehow or causing an accident. An accident. Always an accident, you were sure, because it was almost unheard of for children so young to be able to control their abilities. Unless they were an Xavier student. But regardless of the how or the why, the MRD locked them up and carted them off, taking them away for what the government had dubbed “rehabilitation”. Everyone knew the truth, though.

The MRD was experimenting on mutants.

“So you’re a mutant then?” Tony asked.

You nodded and winced from the pain it brought on. Bucky looked so much like he wanted to hug you. He looked so afraid to. You couldn’t blame him. “Some sort of empath,” you said, rubbing your head gingerly. “That’s like a psychic. When I touch people -- if they catch me off guard, if they’re sad, or angry -- I can feel their pain. Emotional or psychical or whatever. I absorb it. Take it away for a little bit. If I hold on long enough, I can heal and absorb their injuries.”

“Can you inflict injuries as well?” a new voice chimed in a lilting accent.

Everyone in the room turned to see a tall man with long raven hair, emerald eyes, and high cheekbones entering the room.

Bucky was on his feet in an instant, taking up a protective stance in front you. “Who said you could come in here?”

“This does not concern you, Loki!” Thor hissed at his brother. The man who had led the Chitauri invasion on New York. You had been lucky enough to be out of the city at the time.

Loki simply smirked in response as he strolled -- there was no other word for it -- towards the bed where you sat. “This girl, brother, is a Goddess among men,” he put heavy empathis on the word as if he was not sure he actually considered Thor family. He smiled down at you. “I would bet she could lay waste to an entire army -- nay, to the entire of city of New York if she wanted to. With the proper training, of course. Isn’t that right, little one?”

Something about the nickname made your heart stop just for a moment.

Bucky looked over his shoulder at you, shaking his head. “You don’t have to answer that.” He turned back to the others and added to Thor in a warning tone, “I suggest you get him out of here if he wants to live.”

“Oh, come now,” Loki chuckled. He changed course and started for the armchair by the closet where your bag and jacket. Oh, no. “She may be a Goddess, but she is no innocent, Barnes.” He snatched up your purse out of the chair and began pulling out bottle after bottle of medication. “Codeine, Fentanyl, Hydrocodone,” he said, reading aloud. “And all with a different address label. Is that what you were doing when Barnes happened across you, little one -- turning tricks?”

“Loki!” Thor hissed at him viciously. He crossed the room and snatched the bag away from him.

“It’s not like that,” you said in a quivering voice. Even though it was. It was exactly like that. “I need the money. Not for me.” You shook your head as tears started to leak out of your eyes. “I have a job. It just doesn’t pay enough. Not for the bills, the rent, and my dad -- he can’t work, so he drinks instead and my mom is disabled. When he can’t drink, he takes it out on her. So I buy what he wants and I heal her injuries when he hurts her. But I just...” You shook your throbbing head, wiping away the tears. “I can’t bring myself to go home every night and listen to their yelling and to watch him beat her, day in and day out. So I force myself to find some guy to hook up with, that way I have a place to sleep at night.”

You looked up to see them all staring at you, guilt and various levels of concern etched into their features. Even Loki’s smile had disappeared as you scowled at him and spat, “But I always end up going back because someone needs to be there for my mom. And, yes, I can inflict injuries if I wanted to.” You rose to your feet shakily, ignoring the way the room spun as you did so, and reached towards the God of mischief with your hand outstretched. “I can make you feel every bruise and broken bone I’ve ever healed or experienced my damn self, and there have been a lot. There’s a lot of things I had to learn to do for myself because I’ve been through hell and back, and that’s more I can say for you. You came here and attacked us with an army and destroyed innocent lives without a cause or concern in the world. What a coward you are.”

By this time, Loki had set his mouth into a thin, stern scowl and looked as though he might hit you. Thor, seeing this, seized him by the collar and began to lead him from the room. “Just go, brother,” Thor said, pushing him from the room. “You’ve done enough.”

“Friday, lock all entrances to this room,” Tony added quickly, speaking to no one.

You jumped as a cool, invisible female voice responded with a simple, “Yes, Mr. Stark. It is done.”

Heart pounding so hard that it hurt, you sank back onto the too soft bed.

“We’re sorry about him,” Steve said apologetically. “He’s a pain in the ass, but with Asgard gone this is the safest place for him. We’ll try to keep him from bothering you.”

“It’s not safe what you’re doing, though,” Bucky said, sounding both concerned and disapproving. “Going home with strange guys night after night and selling drugs.”

“Well, what would you suggest?” you asked a little snappish from the ongoing pain. You sighed and shook your head. “I’m sorry. I just -- the shelters are just as dangerous and infested with bugs and disease. My only other option is the streets.”

“Well,” Tony said somewhat hesitantly. “That’s your only other option.”

The others turned to him, frowning.

“Tony,” Steve said. “You’re not suggesting....?” His voice trailed off.

“Sure, why not?” Tony said with a shrug. He turned to you and went on. “Being an Avenger comes with a government paycheck -- you’d be able to get your mom out of that hellhole, and you wouldn’t have to go home with strange guys night after night.”

“I-I wouldn’t?” you asked disbelievingly.

At this Bucky beamed at you, obviously pleased with the idea. “You would stay here,” he told you. “In the tower. We could train you to fight and use your powers.”

Steve nodded and sighed. “It’s definitely something you should consider. As a healer, you would be a real asset to the team and you could do a lot of good for a lot of people.”

You couldn’t help but frown at the idea. You had never wanted to a hero. You had never fame or notoriety. Truth be told, you weren’t sure you had it in you. Everything you did, you did for your own survival or to ease your own guilty conscience your dad went after your mom more often than you. Because you spent your nights making out with strange guys only to knock them and raid their shit. That’s why you never sought out the X-Men. You were no hero.

You were just you.

Bucky knelt down in front of you, smiling sadly, knowingly. “I know what it’s like to not wanna fight,” he told you. “But you’ll be with friends here, and you’ve got a lot to gain by doing this and all of it good.”

You sighed, shaking your head. He was right. “If I do, this, it’s not for me. It’s to help my mom.” You looked up at the others. “How soon can we get her away from him?”


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader makes a dangerous deal with Loki to get back her mom.

“Everyone,” Tony said, gesturing to the other Avengers gathered in the living room. He turned to you. “This is Y/N Y/L/N. She is officially our newest recruit in-training to be an Avenger.”

You waved awkwardly from your spot beside Bucky. The pain you had awoken to had finally receded a bit. Rather than feeling like you had been hit by a truck, you now felt as though you had been stabbed in the skull. But at least now you had the strength to walk on your own again.

The living room was large and round just off the kitchen with a bar in the back of the room, and a set of floating stairs that led to the observation deck. Four sleek, black sofas and a collection of colorful leather poufs were situated in front of a monstrous flat screen. Opposite the sofas was the balcony, which offered a panoramic view of the city. It was still early in the day, but the shades had been drawn, obscuring your view.

“Hey,” a tall red-haired woman said, walking up to you. You recognized her immediately as the Black Widow. “I’m Natasha -- Nat for short.” She offered you her hand to shake.

“That is not a great idea,” Bucky interjected quickly, grabbing Nat by the wrist and lowering it forcefully.

Natasha frowned and looked from you to Bucky and back again. “Why is that?”

“My powers,” you tried to explain. “I absorb the pain of anyone I touch. Of course, once I get used to the people, I’m able to shield myself from it.”

Natasha nodded. “And you still need some time getting used to us,” she pieced together. “I get it.”

“That’ll probably take a while,” a grinning black man said, joining your group. “With all the problems we have, we could start our own group therapy session. I’m Sam Wilson, by the way.”

You nodded, uncertain of how to respond, and winced at the pain the movement brought you. Who knew super heroes had so many problems?

“Hey, Y/N,” Tony said, steering you away from the others. You and Bucky followed him over to a where a tall, wavy-haired man stood fidgeting awkwardly. “This is Doctor Bruce Banner,” Tony informed you.

“Uh, hi, it’s nice to meet you,“ Bruce smiled at you. “Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling back at him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“So we were thinking that after your little run-in with Buckaroo here, you must have one hell of a headache,” Tony said, gesturing to Bucky.

“He means,” Bruce said quickly after he caught sight of your inquiring face. “Do you retain the pain you absorb?”

“Unfortunately,” you said, massaging your temple. “It usually goes away after a while. This doesn’t seem to be letting up that much.”

Bucky shifted his weight guiltily and cleared his throat. “So do you guys have a solution?”

Tony reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small orange bottle labeled Huldocaine. “These are still in the testing phase, but Banner and I have been working on a creating a fast-acting, nonaddictive painkiller to combat any Hulk-size beatings any of us might endure in the heat of battle.” He offered the bottle to you. “You interested in being our guinea pig?”

You eyed the bottled uneasily. “Are there side-effects?”

“A little nausea,” Bruce said, nodding. “And I wouldn’t recommend taking it if you’re bleeding to death. You need to understand that this is a painkiller and not a substitute for an actual doctor.”

“So it’s a last resort?” Bucky asked, looking from genius to the other.

“Pretty much,” Tony said. “And if Y/N here hadn’t just absorbed 70 years of torture and emotional abuse, we probably wouldn’t consider giving it to her.”

“And we aren’t giving you the whole bottle,” Bruce added quickly. “It’s not that we don’t trust you, Y/N, but this is an experimental drug and we can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands. If you ever need more, then you can always come to us.”

“So have we got a deal?” Tony asked you.

“She’s in a lot of pain,” Bucky said, snatching the bottle away from him. Even in the pain you were in, you had to stifle a giggle as you watched him struggle to open the bottle with his flesh hand. “Why won’t this thing --?”

“Give me that,” Tony said, taking it back from him. “Apparently, child-safety locks are super soldier proof.” He uncapped the lid in a manner of seconds and handed over two tiny white pills, careful as to avoid actually touching you.

You took the pills and dry swallowed them. Surprisingly, the pain you felt lessened a great deal, although it did not fade completely. It was still better than you had felt in days, though, and you could not help the happy sigh that escaped your lips.

“Now then,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. “Have you had a chance to talk things over with mommy dearest yet?”

You shook your head. “I’m gonna have to go there and get her myself. It’s the only way she’ll leave.”

“Why?” Bucky chimed in. “Have you got something lined up for her already?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Tony smiled at him. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and pulled up some holograms of a stone-and-glass complex building. “This is the Arden Meadows Retirement --”

“A retirement home?” Bucky groaned loudly, causing several of the other Avengers to pause and look at you. “Tony, do you know what kind of abuse those people go through on a daily basis?”

“He is right, Stark,” Thor said, walking over to you. “I will not allow Lady Y/N’s mother to suffer the same injustices my father did when he was in such a place.”

“Thor,” Tony scoffed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you never even knew your dad was missing until the last minute, and this isn’t some ordinary retirement home, guys -- Pepper’s great aunt and uncle live there. Do you really think she’d let them stay there if it was any sort of bad?”

“Um,” you said quietly, looking around at the others. “Who is Pepper?”

At this, Tony rolled his eyes visibly.

“She’s Tony’s girlfriend,” Bucky muttered in your ear.

“Fiancee!” Tony corrected him. “And the CEO of Stark Industries. Do you people live under a rock?” He walked over to the liquor cabinet behind the bar and pulled out a few bottles of amber liquid.

“So tell me about Arden Meadows,” you said, getting back to the topic at hand. You walked up to the bar and sat down in one of the tall stools, waiting.

Tony set down one unopened bottle. “It is a very exclusive retirement facility for people with mental and psychical handicaps. Your mom would have her own, private supervised apartment with nurses who come by regularly to check up on her. Make sure she’s taking her meds, eating, etc. There is a pool, sauna, sports, Bingo.”

“Regularly as in daily?” you asked with raised eyebrows.

He nodded. “If need be. Look, I pulled a lot of strings to her in there. So what do you think?”

You nodded and sighed. “I like it. It sounds perfect....” Your voice trailed off.

“Why am I sensing a but?” Tony asked.

“She’ll never go willingly,” you told him.

Tony frowned. “In that case, we may have to...”

“No, nope, don’t wanna hear it,” Bucky said, suddenly appearing behind you, making you jump so high you almost fell out of the bar stool. “Please, do not say it.”

You gaped at him. “Weren’t you just --?” You gestured wildly to the other side of the room.

“Super soldier, remember?” Bucky reminded you. Then he turned to Tony and said pleadingly, “Please, do not make me go to him for help.”

“What do you want me to say?” Tony said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Reindeer Games has got the gift of persuasion.”

“Reindeer Games?” you echoed confusedly.

“You have the audacity to make a threat against my life and the come to me for help?”

Loki’s room was, like all the other rooms you had seen so far, enormous with two walls lined with bookshelves, packed with ancient tomes you imagined he had rescued from Asgard and other far off realms. Forest green linens covered the four-poster bed that stood in the center of the room, and from atop one of those posts hung the infamous horned helmet.

Right now, you weren’t sure whether you should bat your lashes or beg for mercy. Probably neither since Bucky was standing literally right next to you. So instead, you merely shifted your weight from one foot to the other and focused your gaze on the silvery furs that made up the carpet.

“Loki,” Steve said, jabbing the God sharply in the chest. “Weren’t you the one who barged in and started making all kinds of accusations after you went through Y/N’s bag?”

“Yes, well --” Loki began.

“Besides, brother,” Thor said, pushing past you and draping his arm across his brother’s shoulders. “It will do you some good to get out of the tower and spread your wings, so to speak.”

Loki scowled at him and shrugged out of his grasp. “If I do this, then I want something from her.” He nodded at you.

He would be lucky if you didn’t give him a couple of month’s in a body cast. Still you tried your best to smile sweetly and said, “Which is?”

“A little thing, really,” Loki smirked. “A trifle.”

“You wanna get to the point there, Reindeer Games?” Tony said, crossing his arms.

“Are the rumors that you are to be joining us on our humble team correct?” Loki asked, ignoring him and speaking only to you.

You thought back to the gathering in the living room where Tony had announced your pending Avengers membership. The gathering Loki had been absent from. “Maybe. What does that have to do with anything?”

“There is an empty room on the opposite of end of this floor --” Loki began only to be immediately cut off.

“And you want Y/N to live in it?” Bucky asked, stepping protectively in front of you.

“Why ever not?” Loki asked innocently. “Her abilities intrigue me, and if I am to be her instructor --”

This time, it was Tony who cut him off. “Who said you were gonna be teaching anybody anything?”

“Who better to educate a Goddess than the God of mischief?” Loki countered.

You crossed your arms and shook your head. “I’m not a Goddess. I’m a mutant. Just a lowly mortal subspecies. A genetic defect.”

Bucky stared at you over his shoulder pityingly. He looked as though he wanted to reach out and hug you.

“You may not be a Goddess now,” Loki said. “But I can teach you to wield your powers like one.” He inched ever closer to you, his emerald eyes shining, full of mischief and mystery.

You stared at him, thinking. Debating. Deep down, you knew it was a bad idea. A terrible one. He was right, though. Who better to teach you than the God who had almost bested Earth’s mightiest heroes?

“Doll --” Bucky said, and his tone was almost pleading. Almost as if he could see the gears turning inside your head.

“I’ll do it,” you said, nodding. “But if you even think of setting foot inside my room, I will paint the walls with your blood and I’ll do it without my powers.”

“Oh, little one,” Loki chuckled darkly. “I would love to see you try.”

The apartment your family rented was in a decaying high-rise in Flatiron. Dark and dingy with water damage and peeling wallpaper, leftover from who knows when.

“This is what you go out and risk life and limb for night after night?” Loki asked, looking around the cluttered living room of the tiny two-bedroom.

Bucky punched him hard in the shoulder, but even he could not deny that it was not a pretty sight. An ugly, patched brown sofa took up most of the back wall. A stained Lay-Z-Boy chair was situated in front of the only window by the fire escape where a drying rack, stood overflowing with damp laundry. The kitchen was small and cramped with yellowing cabinetry that looked like it would touch the opposite wall if you opened it all the way. There wasn’t even room enough for a dining table.

You sighed, stepping over the coffee table, which was littered with half-empty wineglasses and beer cans. “We can’t all be raised in palaces,” you said, looking around. Carefully. Cautiously. Your father was nowhere to be seen. Must have been on a beer run. “Ma!” you called out.

Your mother wasn’t around, either. That was unusual.

“Mrs. Y/L/N!” Bucky called out, following your lead. “We’re the Avengers -- we’re here to help!”

“Yes, announce our presence to the whole building, why don’t you?” Loki said, making his way to the kitchen. “It’s not as though we’ve got enemies or anything.”

“Loki,” you breathed out as you started down the narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms. “Don’t make me have to hurt you.”

“If you don’t, then I will,” Bucky promised under his breath.

You ignored him. “Ma!” you called out. “Ma, where are you?”

Everything was quiet. Too quiet.

“It doesn’t look like anyone is here, doll,” Bucky said from his spot in the living room. “Doll --”

Then you heard it -- a whisper soft whimper, coming from your parents’ bedroom. “Ma,” you said, rushing down the hall and flinging open the door.

“It seems as though we won’t be needing my abilities, after all,” Loki said, appearing behind you in the doorway.

Your mother lay, unconscious, on the floor of the room. Her eyelids were fluttering and a thin trickle of blood, dribbling down her forehead. And there on the bed laden with a comforter and lumpy pillows was your father.

“Her own fault,” he said, pulling a can out of the twenty-four pack of Old Milwaukee that lay beside him on the bed.

“How long has she been like this?” you said, rushing over to her.

You knelt down beside her. Then you reached out with trembling hands, and placed them over your mother’s wound. Pain erupted at the base of your skull as a gentle white light emanated from your fingertips. You bit back a cry as you healed your mother, absorbing her pain.

“What do you care?” your father shot at you. “Who are they?” He gestured to Bucky and Loki.

You turned to them and nodded at your mother. “Guys,” you said simply.

“I’ve got her,” Bucky volunteered quickly, rushing over to you.

“Got who?” your father demanded. “What’s going on here?”

You straightened up and scowled at him. “We’re taking her away from here,” you told him sternly. “Don’t try to stop us.”

“Not unless you’ve got a death wish,” Loki added.

“It’s you whose got a death wish,” your father said, plunging his hand beneath his pillow and pulling out a .22 revolver handgun.

Instinctively, you raised your hand and shot a blast of psychic energy. The blast hit him the chest and the gun toppled from his grasp, as you forced him to relive the broken ribs he had caused you. All your life, he had hurt and abused you -- and her. Now, he was going to pay. With a growl, you sent out glaring white bands of energy that extended from your fingertips like marionette strings and wrapped themselves around his appendages. You yanked hard, enjoying the sound of limbs dislocating as you dragged him towards you just as he had enjoyed doing to you. So many times.

“Y/N!” Bucky said, breaking you of your reverie.

You turned to see him, staring at you almost in horror, as he held your mother cradled to his chest.

“Little one,” Loki breathed behind you, and even he sounded nervous. “We have her. It is time to go.”

You stood, breathing heavily. Then you released your father and turned to go. “Goodbye, Dad.”


End file.
